


The Oasis

by TiedyedTrickster



Series: Geta!verse [5]
Category: DBZ - Fandom, Dragon Ball
Genre: ...I have no clue how to tag this one, Alternate Universe, Backstory, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Fighting, being mature about stuff, it's a wild concept but I think it might catch on, sexual orientation and learning about it, the break-up, why doesn't anyone tell me about these things?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4869722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiedyedTrickster/pseuds/TiedyedTrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, a kiss is a beginning. Sometimes, it’s an ending. And sometimes, it’s a little of both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Oasis

**Author's Note:**

> Set about a year prior to Bulma and the Monkey Prince. Bulma 16 at the start, Yamcha 17.
> 
> Note: I tend to picture Yamcha as being fairly under-socialized before he starts hanging out with Bulma and everyone, so there’s a fair number of social norms and stuff that most people take for granted which he’s not familiar with. Also, Jetta is an OC I had before I wrote this, and she was a jerk before she was a lesbian – I do not think all lesbians are jerks or anything, Jetta just happens to be both. 
> 
> Also, the concept of what exactly constitutes ‘cheating’ seems to shift from person to person as I understand it – sometimes just thinking about someone sexually who isn’t your partner is a death sentence to the relationship, but other times it’s not a problem unless you go on a date or have actual sex with someone else. It’s fluid. But I think one of the key factors is whether you think you cheated or not, even if your partner thinks you didn’t after hearing about it.

It was the name of the place that had drawn him to it – ‘The Oasis.’ It was something Bulma had called a ‘teen club,’ like a bar or something for people too young to drink. Which had led to the revelation that you have to be eighteen if you wanted to drink alcohol, at least in West City, something Yamcha found strange. He found a lot of things strange in the city, to be honest – there were so many rules and restrictions, and there was practically a dress code! The few dojos he’d found wouldn’t let him spar because he didn’t have a belt or sash in their discipline – they didn’t care that he knew how to fight or that he was creating his own style, the cowards. Men here were cowards in general, actually, at least in his opinion.

Bulma said they weren’t cowards, he was just being a thug, but quietly he knew she was wrong. He’d lived on his own since he was ten – well, on his own except for Pu’ar – and he knew what courage was, and when it was lacking. And he didn’t like school – they didn’t teach you anything useful there, regardless of what Bulma said.

On the other hand… he did like Bulma, and was discovering that he didn’t mind being around other people as much as he had when he was younger. Which was why he’d found the Oasis – he’d been looking for a place to go for when Bulma was busy with science or her friends, and he didn’t feel like hanging around Capsule Corp.

And it had been nice – the other patrons had been a little hesitant at first, and he’d been fairly nervous himself, but eventually a few other teens had wandered over and struck up a conversation. He’d even been secretly proud of himself for not freaking out over the fact that there were a couple of girls in the group. And for awhile he’d forgotten how exposed the back of his neck felt with his hair cut short, and how naked he felt with his scimitar and guns in capsules back in the room Bulma had given him.

It had only gotten awkward at the end of the evening when he’d made a comment about the club’s decorations. It had, appropriately enough, a desert oasis theme going on, but he’d lived in the desert for a good portion of his life and, while more colourful than most people tended to give it credit for, it didn’t tend to have as many rainbows as these scenes indicated. The group had gone quiet after he’d commented on this and he internally groaned, wondering what new city taboo he’d just broken. Was commenting on club decorations not allowed?

Finally, just when he was about to apologise, a blue-haired boy a little older than him had asked hesitantly, “You… _do_ realise that this is a gay club, right?”

To which he’d responded that yes, he’d noticed the place did have a fairly cheerful atmosphere, what did that have to do with rainbows? This had earned him a dirty look from one of the girls.

“Are you making fun of us?”

“No?” he looked around the ring of faces, feeling hot and confused. “I- is this a city thing? I’ve only been here a few weeks, I’m still learning the rules.”

“Wow…” a girl with black hair (he was pretty sure her name was Silva) blinked. “I didn’t think they _made_ guys that innocent anymore.”

“Go look it up,” a brown-haired suggested firmly, “Then come back. If you still want to.”

Yamcha wasn’t sure why he wouldn’t want to, but he’d obviously worn out his welcome, so he finished his soda and left. Once he got back to Capsule Corp, he sought out his guide to all city-related mysteries: Bulma. She was in her workshop, waist-deep in a car and covered in grease, and he smiled at her when she turned to face him as he entered.

“Hi, Yamcha.”

“Hey, babe.” He walked over and gave her a quick kiss. He liked kissing Bulma, even when she tasted a little bit oily, like she did now. “What’s ‘gay’ mean?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“‘Gay,’ what’s it mean?” he repeated. “Apparently it’s different in the city than the desert.”

“Why, what’s in mean in the desert?” she asked.

“Happy, cheerful.”

“Ah.” She gave him a level look, then explained.

He… hadn’t realised that was an option. Pretty much everything he knew about the subject of romance came from books, mostly novels, mostly old.

They had barely mentioned kissing.

“So… is it a bad thing?” he asked when she’d finished.

“No!” Bulma shook her head vehemently, “Even if it _does_ mean that there are hot guys out there who aren’t interested in me! It’s just… there’s old stigmas hanging around the concept – but it’s gotten _so_ much better! When my parents were kids, same-sex marriage wasn’t even legal in some places! I mean, how weird is that? But some people are jerks and wanna live in the dark ages…”

Then she found him a couple books with more on the subject and made it clear that she had an engine to re-assemble, so he gave her another slightly oily kiss and went to find Pu’ar. She was sleeping in the library, conveniently enough, but didn’t grumble too much when he woke her up, coming to sit on his shoulder as he read.

“I didn’t know this was an issue for humans,” she squeaked as he opened the first book. Yamcha glanced at her, surprised.

“Isn’t it for animal people?”

“Not for shape-shifters,” she shrugged, “Gender’s just another option, really.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” Yamcha thought for a moment. “Which do you prefer?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she batted his cheek with one paw. “Please open the book, Lord Yamcha.”

It took him a couple days to get through the books, and a couple more to think about what he’d read. Then he grabbed Pu’ar and went back to the Oasis.

“Hey, it’s the innocent country boy!” Silva called out from where she was sitting with several of the people he’d seen last time as he came in.

“Took him long enough,” the teal-haired girl who’d taken offence before glared at him.

“Jetta, be nice.” The brunette youth from the previous time walked forward to stand in front of Yamcha. “The important thing is _why_ he took so long, and why he came back.”

Yamcha met his gaze calmly. “My girlfriend gave me some books to read on the subject – it took me awhile to get through them.”

“You have a girlfriend?” the other teen raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, she’s great,” Yamcha raised an eyebrow back, “Is that gonna be a problem?”

“I dunno, I have a boyfriend – is _that_ gonna be a problem?” he folded his arms and Yamcha shrugged.

“Why would it be?”

“Good answer.” Grinning, he held out a hand. “I’m Qwarz. You can ignore Jetta – she was born with a bad attitude.”

“Bite me, freak.”

“As just demonstrated.”

“I’m Yamcha,” he shook Qwarz’s hand, “And this is my friend, Pu’ar.”

The Oasis became one of his regular haunts while he was in the city over the next two years. Bulma found it a little odd when she found out where he was spending his time, but relented easily enough.

“At least I know you’re not going to cheat on me there,” she joked, leaning into him.

“I’m not going to cheat on you anywhere,” he smiled into her hair, enjoying the closeness, “Though girls are less scary when they aren’t trying to flirt with you.”

“And the guys?” she gave him a suggestive smile and he sniffed in mock indignation.

“I will assure you, the guys are perfect gentlemen.”

She laughed and swatted him, but was happy enough to respond when he kissed her.

He made friends with Qwarz and Silva, a casual friendship that mostly involved hanging out when they ran into each other at the club and chatting and playing darts or Truth or Dare – a game which Yamcha thought was a little silly, but which Qwarz adored for some reason and the rest of the group tended to humour him over. Jetta usually joined the latter games when she was there, and her vicious streak made them more interesting. Generally, though, Yamcha preferred darts, and the crazy handicaps the others came up with so it wasn’t an automatic win for him.

 

OoOoOoOoO

 

About a year after he’d moved to West City, the door of the Oasis opened and a long-legged young woman with orange and yellow striped hair sauntered in and ordered a raspberry soda. She was walking by the table Yamcha and his friends were sitting at when she froze in mid-step to sniff the air. Then she slowly turned and walked over to where Pu’ar was being a skinny boy with blue-grey hair. The young woman sniffed the air again and then, with a little puff of smoke, turned into a yellow tanuki with an extremely bushy yellow and orange tail. Pu’ar stared at her for a moment, slack-jawed, then reverted to her own natural shape.

“I’m Chae,” the tanuki said, holding out a paw.

“Pu’ar,” the little cat squeaked back.

“Hi!” they both said this last bit at once, then stammered a bit, then giggled, and that was it, they were both smitten.

Ever since they’d first met, Pu’ar had stuck close to Yamcha. She’d grown a little bolder since she got to the city and got used to it, but had still liked to stick close to him and Capsule Corp. Now, though, she began to spend more time in the city on her own, and with Chae. And, on the one hand, Yamcha was happy for her. On the other… there were times he missed his constant little blue-grey shadow. He began to train a bit more, to take his mind off of it, and because the Tenkaichi Budokai was approaching and this time he was determined to enter and see just how well he faired against professional martial artists.

He went to the Oasis one last time before the Budokai and the training journey to prepare for it – by the time the event was over he would be eighteen and too old to really come there anymore. Silva called him Country Boy and wished him luck, as did Qwarz, and Jetta, with every sign of sincerity, told him he was going to get ground into paste.

Yamcha made it to the quarter-finals, which was amazing, only to be beaten by a thirteen-year-old midget with no nose, which was less amazing. The boy had studied under the Turtle Sen’nin, so his strength was understandable, and Krillin was gracious in victory, but still, it stung Yamcha’s pride, and Bulma scolding him over it didn’t help. What was more, West City felt too cramped upon his return. After the peace of the desert where he’d gone to train… the city was all noise and confusion and not-enough-space-for-anything. It had been his first time seeing Diablo Desert and Kung Pao Rock since he’d moved in with Bulma, and he hadn’t realised just how much he missed it until now.

A couple of weeks after the Budokai Bulma snapped at him for sulking around the house and he remembered he could drink in public again. Mr. and Mrs. Briefs didn’t mind if he had the occasional nip of sake, even if Bulma huffed about it, and probably wouldn’t have minded him having more if he’d wanted. He… wasn’t much of a drinker, though (okay, he was a major lightweight, but that was a secret he intended to take to his _grave_ ), so a nip was generally as far as he went.

That evening, however, he felt like having said nip in public, so he shrugged on his coat and went looking for somewhere quiet.

He ended up going somewhere slightly less quiet when he bumped into Qwarz, Jetta, and a young man with curly brown hair just a little taller than Yamcha.

“This is my cousin, Arnet,” Qwarz beamed as he introduced them, slapping the man in question on the back, “Arn, this is Yamcha, the guy I was telling you about. Oh man, you have to come with us – Arn doesn’t believe us about how good you are with darts!”

“I’m too old to go to the Oasis anymore though, remember?” Yamcha pointed out.

“That’s okay, so are we,” Arnet grinned.

“Silva isn’t, though,” Jetta said smugly, “She has to wait another month.”

Qwarz swatted her. “Why do we let you hang out with us again?”

“I make things interesting, and I’ve got the best damn gaydar in the city and use it to find you losers dates.” She replied, completely unrepentant, “Come on, I know a place.”

The club was called Journey to the East, which featured gender-bent concepts of the characters from the original story. The Oasis had been a relatively quiet place, geared more for people who wanted to hang out in a safe comfortable atmosphere than anything else. The Journey East was similar in regards to the atmosphere of safety, but his was livelier and rather more flamboyant. It also didn’t have a dartboard, which meant, after some conversation and a couple drinks, they ended up playing Qwarz’s favorite game instead.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Arnet grumbled, “What are you guys, six?”

“You’re just whiney because I’m targeting you,” Jetta smirked, “Now truth or dare.”

“Dare,” the tall man groaned, having already been at the mercy of Jetta once before, and had discovered that ‘truth’ was not as safe an option as he’d thought it was.

Not that dare was much safer, if Jetta’s expression was anything to go by. “Excellent,” she purred (and it was always scary when she looked that pleased (in was a promise of suffering for someone in the very near future)), “I dare you to make out with Yamcha like you mean it.”

Yamcha, who was a bit past halfway through his second cup of sake and fervently hoping he could make it last the rest of the evening (because he really didn’t think he could handle a third), choked and spilled his cup (so much for making it last…). Coughing, he glared at the teal-haired young woman. “Jetta!”

She gave him bored look. “What?”

“I’m straight! And I have a girlfriend!”

“I get how the first applies, but how does the second?” Qwarz asked, and Yamcha turned to glare at him.

“I’m not cheating on my girlfriend for a stupid dare! Especially not _someone else’s_ stupid dare!”

“It’s not cheating, it’s a stupid game of truth or dare,” Jetta rolled her eyes, “Besides, it’s not like you’re going to enjoy it or anything that could cast dubious moral light onto the situation. Now man up and pucker up, monkey boys!”

“Why do you even want us to do this, I thought you weren’t into guys, at all,” Yamcha protested.

“Oh, I’m not,” she assured him, propping her head on her hands, “Suffering, now, _that_ I like, regardless of gender. So start smooching and give me what I want.”

Arnet glanced at Yamcha and raised an eyebrow. “If you’re really that uncomfortable with it, I’ll just forfeit my turn.”

“Wusssss~…” Jetta murmured from her seat, and Yamcha glared at her, then finished what was left in his cup and turned to Arnet with the determination of almost two cups of sake and a wounded ego.

“Just pick me next so I can get her on my turn.”

The taller man stared at him for a moment, then nodded. They both stood, and, after another moment’s hesitation, Arnet pulled Yamcha flush against him and kissed him.

Yamcha had expected it to feel gross. After all, that was how it worked, right? If you liked girls, kissing guys was gross, and vice versa. But this… it wasn’t gross. Different than kissing Bulma, yes, but it was still kinda nice. Or really nice…

He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes until Arnet broke off the kiss and he opened them again and found the other man staring at his curiously.

“You know, I haven’t kissed a completely straight guy before, but I didn’t think they responded like that.”

Yamcha swallowed and realized his face felt hot, and that his arms had somehow found their way around the other man, and, really, that had been rather enjoy-

The blood left his face so quickly it left him feeling light-headed. “Oh- oh shit. I just cheated on Bulma…”

 

OoOoOoOoO

 

Bulma was surprised to find Yamcha curled up on the couch when she can home from her workshop, arms wrapped around his knees and looking miserable, especially since it was past midnight and he was usually asleep by now.

“Yamcha?”

He looked up at her, expression drawn, voice quiet. “Hey, Bulma.”

That was worrying… “Yams? Is something wrong?”

He looked away again. “Yeah.”

She went to sit next to him on the couch. “Whatever it is, it can’t be _that_ bad. I mean, it’s not like someone died or you cheated on me or anything!”

“Actually…”

“Someone _died_?!?” she felt her face go pale-

He squirmed. “No…”

“ _YOU CHEATED ON ME_?!” The blood returned to her face four-fold and she went from sympathetic to incensed too fast to track, “How dare you! Who was she, what did she-”

“He.”

The word was quiet but forceful, addressed towards the open window, and it stopped her in its tracks. “What.”

“It wasn’t a she,” Yamcha said, voice still quiet, “It was a he.”

Bulma went very still. “…but… I thought you liked girls… I thought you liked _me_ …”

He spun to face her at that, eyes wide, expression desperate. “I _do_ like you, Bulma, I like you a lot! I didn’t mean- It was a stupid dare, I didn’t expect to _like it-_ ”

That brought the anger back. “‘Didn’t expect to like it’?” she snapped, “Bullshit, Yamcha, how can you not know you like guys as well as girls?!”

He quailed under her glare. “I didn’t even know that was an _option_ until a few hours ago!”

“How can you not know that?” she demanded, and she saw something snap in his eyes. Usually Yamcha just sat and took whatever she threw at him – it was a trait that both drove her crazy and gave her a thrill of power. Now, though, his brows lowered and he straightened, scowling back at her.

“And where the hell am I supposed to have learned about this stuff, huh?” he demanded back, “In that stupid, _useless_ school you made me go to? From my targets in the desert? I’m _sick_ of people giving me shit for stuff I don’t know, I’m sick of this fucking city!! I’ve bent over backwards trying to fit in here, and it’s _not working,_ Bulma!” he glared at her, panting slightly, then took a breath. “It’s not working,” he repeated more quietly, “And I’m sick of trying to make it work.” Standing, he walked across the room in the resulting silence and vaulted out the window.

Bulma sat quietly on the couch for a moment, listening to the sound of retreating footsteps, then for a little bit longer, thinking. Then she got up and started walking herself.

She wasn’t sure what she was going to do exactly as she entered Yamcha’s room – mess it up a bit, or throw his stuff on the lawn or something. Yeah, probably throw his stuff on the lawn, he’d get the message from that, probably beg for forgiveness for awhile, and maybe she’d even give him another chance, because she was just that big of a person. But first she had to make it clear that infidelity of any sort would not be tolerated-

Her thoughts of righteous vengeance stuttered to a halt as her eyes fell on the small table by his bed. Yamcha’s room was simple – he’d painted it and put up a few posters, but hadn’t done much else or acquired a lot of clutter. So when something was moved or missing, it was fairly noticeable. And something _was_ missing.

Yamcha hadn’t brought much with him from the desert. After agreeing to come to the city with her, he’d vanished for a bit, then returned with a yellow capsule case. When she’d asked him about it, he’d said that it held everything really important, the rest was well enough hidden where it was. A few favoured weapons, some clothes, his air bike, a few odds and ends that she’d never looked into beyond confirming that it wasn’t porn (he’d turned so red, protesting, ‘I’m a bandit, not a pervert!’)… Everything important, everything he couldn’t bear to leave behind, neatly packed in a small yellow case that had gone on to live on his bedside table for close to two years.

And it was gone.

Bulma stared blankly at the space it should have been for a moment. Then her eyes slowly moved to the room’s large window. Yamcha had chosen this room of the several she’d offered him for two reasons: it was on the ground floor and it had a window he could easily climb through. He’d explained that he preferred a room with more than one exit. That window, which he used almost as often as the door. Which he usually kept locked. Which was currently unlocked.

_“It’s not working. And I’m sick of trying to make it work.”_

He was gone. Bulma’s feet took her back to the couch as her slightly numb mind tried to process what she’d just learned. Yamcha was gone. He must have slipped into his room after he’d left her, gotten his things, and headed off. And she’d never been able to convince him to get a phone. And she’d never found out **where** his bandit lair was because… she hadn’t cared. She hadn’t cared, because it hadn’t mattered where he used to be, because he was _here_ now, with her. Except he wasn’t any more. He’d left, and he might never see her again.

A shiver ran through her. She hadn’t _wanted_ him gone. Grovelling, yes, away for a few days, sure, but not _gone_ …

It struck Bulma that, if this was a movie, then this would be the moment it started to rain. It wasn’t a movie, though. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and, when she went to look out the window, the stars were glittering, cold and distant, and the moon laughed at her.

 

OoOoOoOoO

 

She was woken from a light doze by a weight on the other end of the couch. Opening her eyes, she turned and saw-

“Yamcha!”

He glanced at her, eyes tired. “Hey, B. Sorry I stormed off last night, I needed to- Oof!” he grunted as she launched herself across the couch and clung to him, crying.

“I thought you weren’t coming back!”

Hesitantly he brought his arms up and held her. “No, just needed to clear my head a bit. Why would you have thought I’d left for good?”

Bulma huddled against him, miserable, “I went into your room, I don’t remember why, and I noticed that your capsule case was gone – the yellow one, that you keep your important stuff in. You said you were sick of it here and… I thought you’d gone home.”

Yamcha sighed. “I’ve been carrying that case since the Budokai. And I wouldn’t leave like that without telling you, no matter how angry I was.” He pushed her back so he could look her in the eye. “And I’m sorry that I lost my temper like that, and that I cheated – it won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t,” she gave him a wan smile, “Because I’m breaking up with you – for real this time.”

“ _What_?” his expression was stricken, “No, I _swear_ it was an accident, and I won’t let myself get into a situation like that again – Bulma, _please-_ ”

“It’s not that,” Bulma interrupted, “Though I’m totally getting an explanation of how you ‘accidentally’ cheat later. It’s what you said when you were angry, about it not working,” she bit her lip, “I thought about it after you left, when I thought you might be gone for good. And you’re right. It’s not working. **We’re** not working. No, don’t say anything,” she added when he opened his mouth to protest, “Just think about it for a moment. This… thing we have going, is this really what you pictured when you dreamed of marriage in the desert? Is this really what you want?”

It was silent in the room for a few minutes. Then-

“We’re not working, are we?” Yamcha asked quietly.

“No. I think… we want different things.” She shifted slightly. “You really just found out about the whole bi thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“That I’m bi?!”

“That I didn’t believe you about not knowing.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“…how did it happen?”

She listened quietly as he told her.

“Jetta said she was sick of me walking around being oblivious,” he concluded, “So when she saw an opportunity, she seized it.”

“ ** _Wow_** ,” Bulma raised an eyebrow, “She’s a total bitch, isn’t she?”

Yamcha struggled. “She’s not- She’s got- Okay, yeah, she really is.”

They watched the room get lighter as the sun slowly rose.

“So, what do we do now?”

“I was thinking I’d contact Son Gohan, see if he’d be willing to take me on as a student.”

Bulma bit her lip. “Could you stay a little longer? We might not have worked out, but…” she shrugged, “I don’t want it to end like this.”

Yamcha gave a slight smile, “I think I can do that.”

“Thanks.” wriggling out of his lap finally, Bulma moved to sit next to him, “So, how hot was he?”

“What?” he turned to her, brow furrowed in confusion, “Who?”

“The guy you made out with, _obviously_ ,” Bulma rolled her eyes, “Come on, scale of one to ten!”

Yamcha turned a brilliant red. “I- uh- I- I dunno… seven?”

“Not bad.”

 

OoOoOoOoO

 

The transition from ‘significant others’ to ‘friends’ happened faster and more smoothly than either of them would have thought possible. It was as though, now that they weren’t in a relationship, they could finally relax around each other. Yamcha grew a little less compliant in regards to Bulma’s whims, and then began pushing back a little. Bulma started, if not thinking more before she opened her mouth, at least apologizing when she knew she’d crossed a line. Rating people they saw on the street or in media from one to ten on the attractiveness scale became a game – not really on purpose, just one of those things that sometimes happen.

About a month after they’d broken up, Yamcha gathered his things together, charted a course to where Son Gohan had said his house was, and set off. Bulma gave him a kiss on the cheek – for luck and for old times – and waved as he left. When he reached the gate, he turned and waved back. Then he stepped through it and was gone.

Bulma closed the door and sighed. He’d said he’d write – hopefully he would. She’d miss having him around…

Straightening, she headed for the kitchen. She _needed_ a slice of strawberry cheesecake. And a bubble bath. And a new project – something interesting and big, like when she’d gone to find the dragon balls- **kami** , had it really been over two years ago? Seriously, she was due for a little adventure – she owed it to herself. After all, boredom caused wrinkles. And maybe she could take on a side project while looking for her big project.

Cheesecake first, though.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m gonna be honest, this isn’t my favorite bit of this series – I really don’t believe Yamcha ever cheated in canon, especially not in the way indicated. And I’m aware of the translation errors that were made in the dubbing now, but this series/story was begun very shortly after re-reading the manga, but before I’d forayed into the fandom very heavily – I didn’t know where Yamcha’s terrible rep came from back then. So this was me figuring out ‘okay, if he did do it… how would it happen?’ 
> 
> And, in my mind, it would be like this: while he was still young, and still figuring out the rules of society outside of the desert. He’s not finished growing mentally, physically, or emotionally, and he’s in a group of friends he trusts to know societal rules in ways he doesn’t, and who are telling him ‘this is okay,’ and he’s a little bit drunk (which is not an excuse but which is a factor). And so he makes a mistake, a big one, for reasons most of us have made mistakes at some point in our lives, and to a much lesser degree than some have. And, really, it’s not even the fact that he made this mistake that’s important to me: it’s how he reacts afterwards. He doesn’t run or hide or try to deny it. From his point of view, he’s done something very wrong – and his immediate reaction is to confess and try to make it right again.
> 
> Similarly, Bulma has a tendency to over-react to things, but I think her initial reaction is pretty justified – no one wants to hear their partner cheated on them, however much it wasn’t on purpose. Also, Yamcha does seem to be kind of a doormat in canon – I don’t think Bulma ever actually gets a wake-up call like this, that if you push a person hard enough, they’ll leave you, no matter how justified you are in your pushing. And maybe it got resolved pretty quickly, but I didn’t want to make this overly gritty – this was a necessary scene to my mind, not a welcome one. Growing up hurts sometimes.
> 
> Because I wanted Bulma and Yamcha to separate early in this universe, not just so that Bulma can get with Vegeta more easily, but so they can both grow more as people. I don’t see their relationship as being a particularly healthy one – Bulma’s shown as being at least border-line abusive at times, and Yamcha seems incapable of standing up to her. Them breaking up early instead of dating for fourteen-to-seventeen years frees Bulma up to date around a little, learn more about relationships and what is and isn’t okay, and also gives Yamcha a chance to go and figure out what he wants from a relationship in a bit more detail beyond ‘I dream of one day getting married.’ It allows them both to grow as people more, and I like to think it richens them in this universe.
> 
> …
> 
> …I still don’t think Yamcha cheated on her in canon…
> 
> Also, yes, it is completely possible to make it to eighteen – or older – without knowing about bisexuality while being fairly aware of the concept of homosexuality. The homosexuality I learned of in middle school (from a novel). Bisexuality I didn’t learn about until my first year of university (at age nineteen), and it was a huge relief, because I’d been seriously worried I was a freak for liking both.


End file.
